


You're In Love!

by honeysbutter



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Relationship Study, its literally just iwaoi brainrot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeysbutter/pseuds/honeysbutter
Summary: Their fists touch, then electricity zings through Iwaizumi’s skin. He smiles, and Oikawa does too.Brown eyes glimmer. Iwaizumi understands immediately.(Thank you for being here,they say.)(No,his own reply.Thank you.)Or,How Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tooru express love without truly saying it.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 137
Collections: hq_faves





	You're In Love!

**Author's Note:**

> you are in love - taylor swift  
>  _One night he wakes, strange look on his face  
>  Pauses, then says, you're my best friend  
> And you knew what it was, he is in love  
> You can hear it in the silence, silence, you  
> You can feel it on the way home, way home, you  
> You can see it with the lights out, lights out  
> You are in love, true love_

**_1\. you_** _**can hear it in the silence** _

For how loud Oikawa is, Iwaizumi discovers that he is the most telling when he is quiet.

Throughout his years, Iwaizumi has likened Oikawa to a paradox. Or perhaps, more accurately stated, his partner was a liar with an array of masks. Luckily for him, the language of Oikawa Tooru is one he had become fluent in long ago. The curve of his cupid’s bow, the twinge of the corner of his mouth, the flutter of his lids, the cinch of his brows—these were all Iwaizumi needed to see in order to understand.

They’re in the Aoba Johsai gymnasium in their second year, having arrived directly after losing their match with Shiratorizawa. Days before, Coach Irihata had informed Oikawa of his captaincy the next year, with Oikawa immediately choosing Iwaizumi to lead by his side.

There’s a continuous out of rhythm thud of volleyballs. Iwaizumi stands by the gym doors, arm crossed with a heavy frown on his face. Oikawa’s tightlipped once again, eyes wild but lids low. During these instances, Iwaizumi would usually coax him to head home, but it was different this time.

Now, the silence was too heavy.

Oikawa lands after his serve, shoulders heaving in exertion. He's slouched over, toffee irises glued onto the ball that had hit out of the court’s bounds.

Iwaizumi stiffens, seeing Oikawa's entire figure shudder even from his distance. Immediately, he rushes his way to be by his partner’s side, hand outstretched to catch him just as he falls. Iwaizumi’s grip softens the blow—Lord knows he needs it, especially with his injury—but the ace can only focus on his features.

The gymnasium is dimly lit. Oikawa had only bothered to flicker one switch on, leaving a spotlight of three overhead bulbs centered on the duo. Still, the faint brightness allows the tears streaked on Oikawa’s cheeks to glisten like stars.

For how loud Oikawa is, he is quiet when he cries in pain.

Iwaizumi has only ever known the silent form of the boy in front of him once. It had been when his knee was injured, to which he refused to meet anyone’s eyes. Instead, he had buried his face into the crevice of Iwaizumi's neck, wordlessly allowing the trickles of his despair to fall in silence.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says now, and even his voice sounds broken. As almost intertwined beings since birth, Oikawa's pain has always been his own. Iwaizumi knows the hurt gained from losing the match—has been with Oikawa since the beginning, after all—but he also knew that he would never understand how the setter felt.

His partner’s arms tremble from where they’re planted on the floor. Iwaizumi is kneeled before him, hands loosely holding his waist. The only noise the brunet makes is a shaky exhale, rivulets of saltwater continuing to drop onto Iwaizumi's legs without sound.

Suddenly, one of Oikawa’s arms shoots out, grasping for purchase on Iwaizumi's shoulder. In an instant, Iwaizumi understands the unsaid plea. It’s a whisper of help, far from the cry that books and movies often associate with moments of need. Iwaizumi inhales a sharp intake of breath, falling to sit and widen his legs to make space.

In a swift movement, he pulls Oikawa to him. His partner embraces his torso tightly, nose just barely peeking over his clavicle with his cheeks dampening his shirt. The tremors rippling through his body begin to come in bursts, with random twists of the cloth in his fingers.

One hand of Iwaizumi’s lays gently on his back, the other moving to tangle his fingers into tufts of brown. In the slightest motion, Iwaizumi shifts his head to press chapped lips against the softness of his hair.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles, gripping his partner tighter. “We’re okay.”

It’s silent yet again afterward. Still, the unmentioned declaration is as clear as the white noise ringing in their ears. 

( _I'm here,_ it coos. _I’m here, and I love you._ )

* * *

**_2\. you can feel it on the way home_ **

In their third year and the year of Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s captaincy, they do not get to play against Shiratorizawa in the Spring Inter-High. They lose before they can, an unexpected failure founded in the prodigy Oikawa feared in private.

Iwaizumi had cried. Still feels like he is about to, in all honesty. The doubt that had wormed its way to tug on his heart still does so relentlessly; every time he looks at Oikawa, at his teammates, at the redness surrounding their eyes, he is reminded of his shortcomings.

Before they left, in the locker room where they had changed, Iwaizumi caught sight of bruises forming on the slope of Oikawa’s back. The cold feeling that rushed over him had left him numb. With his mind barely processing his actions, he hesitantly raised a hand to graze over the marks.

If Oikawa hadn’t flinched at the sudden touch, Iwaizumi almost would have. Even in the warmth of the ramen shop, the giggles echoing through the third years’ last game in the gym, the walk they made now towards home, those last moments of the match replays in his mind. Oikawa had given everything in that final toss, and Iwaizumi had not even scored.

It hurts.

But, just like every other facet of their relationship, Oikawa had been quick to grasp onto Iwaizumi’s hand before he fell. It sometimes baffled him; perhaps, in a different universe in which he and Oikawa had never met at all, they would be enemies rather than what they were now.

(Pressure pokes behind his eyes, and a soft voice that mirrors his own murmurs to him. _Maybe not,_ it argues. _Maybe, you’d still find home in him._ )

Iwaizumi was not a poetic man. However, when it came to the complexities of Oikawa Tooru in relation to the simplicities of himself, he always knew that ordinary words would never suffice. Oikawa was the moon that hung in the sky, ever-present and glowing despite the absence of his company; Iwaizumi was the earth’s core, the steady presence who refuses to let him go too far away. Oikawa had a way with words, honed his ability to use them to manipulate, to care, and to translate; Iwaizumi spoke through touches, capable of making even a harsh push be a symbol of tenderness.

And yet, despite the opposites that lay so blatantly in front of their eyes, years of _knowing_ meant that they were quick to understand. Even if Oikawa was the better player, even if Iwaizumi was the stronger athlete, even if they excelled in areas the other could not reach, they were always on the same footing.

As such, in those moments of doubt, Oikawa had instantly inserted himself in the position of a pillar. Reminiscent of the times Iwaizumi’s palm had been secured on the back of his partner, ready to push if too hesitant and pull if too eager, Oikawa had done the same.

The sounds of sneakers hitting concrete speak louder than the noises of the night. They’re on their way home, finally ready to meet the danger of being alone after such a harsh loss. It’s quiet yet again, their eyes low lidded and encircled with reddened skin.

His heart beats a song that echoes _Tooru, Tooru, Tooru,_ mind replaying Oikawa’s last toss to him with every thrum. With Iwaizumi’s application to colleges abroad and Oikawa’s plan to migrate elsewhere, he is reminded that that last set was truly the finale.

He stops walking.

Oikawa blinks, mimicking his actions immediately. In this lighting, he looks beautiful. The darkness kisses one side of his face, with the silver light from the streetlamp glowing on the other. Iwaizumi is left speechless for a stutter of a moment before he clenches his fist tightly.

“Oikawa,” he begins. The burning returns to his eyes, and he clears his throat to combat the urge to shake. “You’re the partner that I can boast. You are an amazing setter. Even if our teams may be different, that will never change.”

Tooru, you were always made for so much more, he wishes to say. He ignores the fact that he refuses to because he is afraid.

Oikawa’s eyes are wide, twinkling with an array of emotions that Iwaizumi would take years to name. He looks at him, _really_ looks at him, and thanks the gods for blessing him with someone who he trusts wholeheartedly and who trusts him too.

“But when we fight,” Iwaizumi suddenly blurts, a grin beginning to form on his lips. “I will defeat you.”

Oikawa says nothing for a moment, and the rush of Iwaizumi’s blood gets louder in his ears. Then, the setter squares his stance, a smile so genuine gracing his mouth.

“As you wish,” he says softly. And it’s enough.

Iwaizumi’s fist raises instinctively, almost at the same time as Oikawa’s. The time it takes for their hands to meet seems like an eternity, for before Iwaizumi’s eyes, he sees a flip through of memories.

Oikawa, who had insisted on playing volleyball and continued to do so despite Iwaizumi’s refusal. Oikawa, who had finally coaxed him into understanding his passion. Oikawa, who had become someone Iwaizumi has depended on without second thought. Oikawa, who had become his partner.

Their fists touch, then electricity zings through Iwaizumi’s skin. He smiles, and Oikawa does too.

Brown eyes glimmer. Iwaizumi understands immediately.

( _Thank you for being here_ , they say.)

( _No,_ his own reply. _Thank you._ )

* * *

**_3._ _you can see it with the lights out_**

Oikawa was ready to pass out.

It wasn’t even a slight exaggeration—he was so _tired._ He had arrived in California at eight in the morning and had demanded for In-N-Out burgers. As a result of Iwaizumi’s complete surprise—yes, he had not been told of Oikawa's visit beforehand—he had been _extremely_ excited. So much so that he brought him to all his favorite places, met all his close friends, and more.

It was only underneath the golden sky did Iwaizumi finally recognize the eyebags he donned. Subsequent to cursing out his partner, he had dragged him back to his apartment to get some much-needed rest.

“Hajime,” he whines, now settled into Iwaizumi’s twin bed. He doesn’t say anything else afterward, merely scoots over to push his back against the wall and lifts the covers over the empty space.

From where he sits at the desk, Iwaizumi lets out a soft chuckle. In this lighting, his irises shine with a hue that seems nearly like ink, yet they glass over with unhidden fondness. Iwaizumi rises, moving to click the lights off before he sinks in besides Oikawa’s figure. Once he relaxes, Oikawa immediately inches closer to him.

Before he fades into slumber, he feels a hand rest over his hip. He smiles.

That night, the imagined fantasies he will forget come morning revolve around a spiky-haired boy. There are flashes, bursts of warmth that blossom in his very core and extend all the way to his fingertips. He dreams of the Argentinian summers, the Californian sun, the Japanese winters, and the moon that looms over the oceans in the middle.

At some point, he awakens at the sudden jerk of his partner beside him. He groggily flutters his eyes, shades of wood finally meeting that of leaves. It’s even darker now, but Oikawa’s sight has adjusted to the absence of light. As always, he identifies the curves and edges of Iwaizumi’s features immediately. His eyes are wide, brows curved with a touch of softness, and lips slightly agape in surprise.

Iwaizumi’s looking at him with an emotion Oikawa cannot name. Yet, his heart sings in understanding.

“You’re my best friend,” he says softly. Oikawa smiles once more, grabbing hold of Iwaizumi’s hand. He does not reply, but he knows.

( _He’s in love,_ his mind sighs.)

( _And so are you,_ his heart says.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed <3  
> twitter: @sugoiikawa


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